Cooper (The Landon Saga Book 3)

by Tell Cotten

  “Let’s go,” I told Sergeant Wagons.

  I mounted up, and then I waited for Sergeant Wagons. His horse was being skittish, but he finally got on.

  I held out the lead rope to one of the mules, and when he reached for it the Indian pony snorted and blew sideways. Sergeant Wagons barely stayed on, and the horse humped up and tried to buck.

  Sergeant Wagons finally got him pulled up. He rode back to me and reached for the lead rope.

  “Never mind,” I sighed. “You just stay on your horse. I’ll handle the mules.”

  “This is a mighty green horse, sir,” Sergeant Wagons said breathlessly. “But don’t worry; I’ve had lots of experience.”

  “You had me fooled,” I said, and then I looked down at Brett. “Tell Wade I said hello.”

  “He’s gonna be mad,” Brett warned.

  “Yes, I imagine he will be,” I smiled, and then I kicked up my dun horse.

  We rode back to Josie, and a look of relief crossed her face. She took one of the mules, and we headed west. It was rougher country in that direction, and that’s what I wanted.

  While we rode, I told Josie what happened.

  “Wade will come after us,” she figured.

  “I suspect he will,” I agreed.

  “You are in bad shape for a fight,” she pointed out.

  “I am,” I admitted.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Well, it’d be nice if Yancy and Rondo showed up,” I reasoned.

  “If they don’t?”

  “Then they don’t,” I replied, and Josie frowned.

  Chapter thirty-six

  The mule slowed them considerably, and it was late in the afternoon by the time they got back to the cabin.

  Jeremiah was the first to spot Brett. He said something, and Wade scowled as he looked ahead.

  Brett was resting his head on the corner post. He was almost asleep, and he jumped in surprise as they rode up.

  Wade sighed and muttered softly as they looked around. The mules were gone, as were the rifles.

  “What happened?” Wade demanded to know.

  “Cooper Landon!” Brett wailed as Choc dismounted and cut him loose.

  A startled look crossed everyone’s face, and then Jeremiah chuckled softly.

  A wave of bitter anger passed through Wade. He dismounted, and in disgust he threw his hat on the ground and stomped it.

  Everybody was silent as they watched him.

  “Cooper Landon is a dead man!” He hollered to nobody in particular, and he kicked his hat one last time.

  “No Worries is expecting us, Wade,” Jeremiah spoke up. “He’ll come after us if we don’t show up with those rifles.”

  “I know, Jeremiah, I know,” Wade said sourly as he bent over and grabbed his hat.

  “What are we going to do, Pa?” Choc asked.

  “We’re going after Cooper,” Wade vowed.

  “He ain’t alone,” Brett warned. “A young, chubby feller was with him.”

  “How long have they been gone?” Wade asked.

  “Two, three hours,” Brett replied.

  “Find their trail, Choc,” Wade said. “We’ll follow.”

  “Yes, Pa,” Choc said, and he kicked up his horse and took off.

  Soon as he was gone, Wade looked at Brett.

  “Take that mule from Floyd and wait here for us.”

  “Can’t I go?” Brett whined.

  “No, this mule is too slow,” Wade replied, and added, “Stay watchful this time, you hear? These are valuable pelts.”

  Brett nodded sullenly as he stepped forward and took the mule from Floyd.

  “We’ll be back,” Wade declared, and they kicked up their horses.

  Brett frowned as he watched them.

  Soon as they were gone, he tied the mule to the corrals. There was nothing else to do, so he went inside the cabin and built the fire back up.

  Chapter thirty-seven

  We stayed in a brisk trot for almost an hour.

  By then the exhilaration had worn off and the pain had set in. My face was pale, and I was slumped over the saddle.

  We were now deep in the woods, and the ground was rocky and uneven. But the trees were thick and provided plenty of cover, and that’s what I had wanted.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Sergeant Wagons asked.

  I grunted in response, and then I called out at Josie to stop.

  “Let’s catch our breath,” I suggested.

  We pulled up.

  I took a few deep breaths as the pain subsided some, and it was quiet as I assessed our situation.

  “With these mules, there’s no way we can outrun them,” I said. “We’ll have to make a stand.”

  Josie and Sergeant Wagons nodded solemnly.

  “We need to find a good spot to hole up,” I suggested, and I looked at Josie. “Could you scout around some?”

  “I go,” Josie replied, and she kicked up her horse.

  I watched her go. Then, I painfully dismounted, tied the mules and my dun to a tree, and sat on a nearby log.

  Sergeant Wagons tied his Indian pony to a tree and joined me.

  “We’re in a tough situation, sir,” he declared.

  “Naw. Yancy and Rondo are around somewhere,” I replied. “We’ve just got to hold on until they find us.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Well, you got here in three days, but Yancy and Rondo won’t kill a horse like you did,” I explained. “That means they should be a day behind you, give or take.”

  Sergeant Wagons looked as if I had just slapped him.

  “I didn’t kill that horse,” he objected. “Something was wrong with him.”

  “You ran him into the ground,” I glared at him.

  “You shouldn’t talk to me like that,” he tried once more.

  I grinned wolfishly at that.

  “I can, I did, and I probably will again,” I said.

  Sergeant Wagons didn’t reply. Instead, he frowned and walked away. His movements were jerky and abrupt.

  Part Four

  “United Paths”

  Earlier In The Day

  Chapter thirty-eight

  Just as Yancy had said, it took them a day and a half to reach the trading post.

  There were charred logs spread all about. The smell of smoke was still strong, and the place had an eerie feel to it.

  By now wolves, coyotes, and other wildlife had done their handiwork, and there were mostly just bones left of the dead.

  Rondo dismounted and walked in a big circle around the trading post. He stopped often, squatting to study the ground, and then he walked on.

  Meanwhile, Yancy laid his reins across his horse’s neck. He stuck his hands deep inside his vest’s pockets, hunched his shoulders, and watched Rondo.

  Finally, Rondo walked over to Yancy, and he frowned and shook his head.

  “You didn’t find anything?” Yancy asked, and he tried to hide his disappointment.

  “Tell you the truth, I didn’t expect to,” Rondo replied. “Too much time has passed.”

  “What do you suggest we do now?”

  “We should ride in a circle, and look for tracks.”

  “How big a circle?”

  “The more country we cover the better,” Rondo replied as he climbed on his horse.

  Yancy pinched his face in thought.

  “There’s a cabin ’bout half a day’s ride from here,” he suggested as they kicked up their horses. “We could stay there tonight, and start our circle in the morning.”

  “Sounds good,” Rondo agreed.

  Yancy nodded, and it fell silent as they trotted on.

  Chapter thirty-nine

  Stew Baine trotted briskly towards the cabin.

  It was late afternoon, and he hoped to recover the money and be gone by dark.

  He approached the cabin from the south pass. There was a slight wind from the north, and as he got closer he could smell smoke.

  He frow
ned, and then he rode up on a hill that was well covered with trees and brush. It also offered a good view of the cabin, and Stew smiled shrewdly as he remembered back.

  Not that long ago, it was from this very hill that he had killed Cliff Curtis while he buried his brother.

  Stew dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and crept towards the cabin. He was real careful not to make any noise, and he stopped when he was about fifty yards away.

  The first thing he studied was the grave. It looked untouched, and Stew smiled smugly.

  There was a horse in the corrals, and there was also a mule tied to the fence.

  His curiosity grew as he eyed the mule. There was a thick bundle on the mule’s back, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was in it.

  All was quiet, so he crept up behind the corrals. He walked around the lean-to, and he kept his rifle aimed at the door as he came up beside the mule.

  “Take it easy, mule,” he said softly.

  The mule backed his ears, but that was all as Stew rummaged through the bundle.

  “Say,” Stew whistled, “that’s a nice pack of beaver pelts you’ve got there!”

  It didn’t take Stew long to assess the situation, and he nodded as he came to a decision.

  He would go west.

  There were plenty of places to hide in that direction, and he would camp out for a day or two and come back when the cabin was empty.

  Stew saw no reason to leave the pack of pelts. So, keeping his rifle aimed at the door, he untied the lead rope.

  At first the mule didn’t want to leave, but Stew coaxed him by pulling gently on the lead rope. The mule finally gave in, and they trudged back to the hill.

  Stew chuckled as he untied his horse and climbed on. He rode west, leading the mule behind.

  Chapter forty

  For two days, Lee and Brian trailed along behind Stew.

  Their camps had been dark, meaning no coffee, and they’d been careful not to get too close.

  However, as they got close to the cabin they kicked up their horses and closed the gap.

  “How far ahead is he?” Brian asked as they trotted along.

  Lee frowned as he studied Stew’s tracks.

  “Hour, mebbe two.”

  “Cabin’s up ahead,” Brian pointed.

  Lee nodded and sniffed the air.

  “Smell that smoke?”

  “Sure do,” Brian nodded.

  They rode to the top of a hill that was well covered in trees and brush. In their haste, Lee failed to notice the tracks where Stew had gone west.

  “Somebody’s at the cabin,” Lee nodded below.

  Brian nodded, and they pulled out their Colts and checked them.

  “Ready?” Lee looked at Brian.

  “Let’s go.”

  They holstered their Colts, and as they rode down the hill they spotted someone in front of the lean-to. He was bent over, studying the ground.

  He was young looking, and he also held a rifle.

  “That ain’t Stew,” Brian observed.

  “No, it’s not,” Lee said, and added, “Stew must have rode on by the cabin.”

  “I wonder if that feller saw him?”

  “Let’s ask him,” Lee suggested.

  They trotted towards him, and Brian said, “He seems upset.”

  “He does, don’t he,” Lee agreed.

  The young man was walking back and forth abruptly. He heard them coming, and he twirled around and raised his rifle.

  “Take it easy,” Lee called out as they pulled up in front of him.

  “Who are you?” He demanded.

  “I’m Lee, and this is Brian. What’s your name?”

  “Brett.”

  “Brett, we’re looking for a friend,” Lee explained. “Have you seen anybody ride through here recently?”

  “You stole the mule, and now you’re coming back for more!” Brett yelled, and he tightened his grip on the rifle.

  “Hold on now,” Lee eyed the rifle. “We didn’t take anything. We just got here.”

  “I want that mule back!”

  “We don’t have him.”

  Brett didn’t reply, and it fell silent as they stared at each other.

  “Wade’s gonna kill me,” he said. “First I lose the rifles, and now this!”

  “Who’s Wade?” Lee asked.

  Brett didn’t answer, and Lee watched his eyes.

  Several seconds passed. Brett’s eyes got hard, and he blinked as he came to a decision.

  His rifle jerked, and Lee palmed his Colt and fired.

  Before Brett could get off a shot, two bullets struck him in the chest. His body was flung backwards, and he landed in a heap. He kicked out, made some gurgling sounds, and died.

  The sudden explosions startled Brian’s horse. He boogered sideways and started bucking.

  Brian managed to stay on for a few jumps. But then the horse sucked backwards, and Brian went flying through the air. He landed hard, and the breath was knocked out of him.

  He flopped on the ground as he sucked for air, and then he glared up at Lee.

  “Why’d you do that for?”

  “You didn’t see it?”

  “See what?” Brian scowled as he stood and dusted himself off.

  “That look in his eyes,” Lee explained as he reloaded his Colt and holstered it.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” Brian complained as he walked over to his horse.

  The horse was still excited, and he snorted and backed up. But Brian ignored him as he grabbed the reins.

  “Knock it off, you knot-head,” he grumbled.

  He led him in a circle to loosen him up, and he tied him to the pole corral. Lee, meanwhile, dismounted and studied Brett.

  “Know who he is?” Brian asked as he walked up.

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither,” Brian replied, and asked, “Do you think Stew stole his mule?”

  “Sounds like him.”

  “But why would Stew want a mule?”

  “Beats me,” Lee shrugged.

  “So now what?”

  “Stew’s tracks have to be around here somewhere,” Lee said. “While I look around, why don’t you take care of Brett?”

  “If you think I’m going to dig a grave, you are mistaken,” Brian declared. “You shot him, not me.”

  Lee frowned at him, but Brian didn’t budge.

  “Fine,” Lee sighed. “Let’s at least put him inside before somebody else comes along.”

  Brian grabbed his feet, and Lee grabbed his shoulders. They carried him inside and laid him in the corner, and then Lee went outside and looked for tracks.

  He wasn’t gone long, and he looked confused as he walked up.

  Brian was sitting on the ground in the shade, next to the cabin.

  “Did you find Stew’s tracks?” He asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Lee replied. “There’s all sorts of tracks going west. I don’t know who they are.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Well, everybody seems to be following each other, so I reckon we’ll follow too.”

  Brian nodded and stood.

  “There’s still a few hours of daylight left,” he said, and suggested, “We might as well ride a mile or two.”

  “You don’t want to stay here?”

  “No, not with Brett in there.”

  Lee smiled and nodded.

  “What about the extra horse?” Brian gestured at the corrals.

  “We’ll pick him up on our way back,” Lee suggested.

  Brian nodded, and they walked toward their horses.

  Chapter forty-one

  Josie wasn’t gone long.

  “I find good spot,” she announced as she rode up. “We go. I show you.”

  I nodded, and with a lot of effort I got up and limped over to my horse.

  Josie helped me get on, and she untied the mules and handed me the lead rope to one of them.

  Meanwhile, Sergeant Wagons climbed on his skittish Indian
pony, and then Josie led out.

  We rode a few miles, and she pulled up and pointed.

  In front of us was an opening to a narrow canyon. It was a very short canyon, and the rock sides were steep. In the back was a natural corral, and there was also a small spring that bubbled up.

  “Any way out the back?” I asked.

  “I think not,” Josie shook her head.

  “We’ll be trapped,” I observed. “But, we could hold this position.”

  Josie and Sergeant Wagons nodded, and I frowned thoughtfully.

  “I reckon we don’t have any choice,” I said, and we kicked up our horses and rode in.

  When we reached the backside of the canyon I turned and looked back at the opening, and I nodded in approval.

  “We have the higher ground,” I said. “That’s good.”

  “I set up camp,” Josie said as we dismounted. “You rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I smiled, and then I looked at Sergeant Wagons. “Unsaddle your horse and take care of the mules, and then break out those rifles. We’re going to disable them.”

  “What for?”

  “In case something happens to us,” I explained.

  That was a sobering thought, and Sergeant Wagons frowned as he thought on that.

  “I don’t know how,” he admitted.

  “Get my tools from my saddlebags,” I replied. “I’ll show you.”

  He nodded and got busy while I limped over to a log and sat.

  I took a look at my hip.

  The wound had broken open. Blood oozed all over my leg, and I could also feel blood down in my sock.

  I grunted in disgust and glanced at Josie.

  “You’d better grab my needle and thread,” I told her.

  Josie nodded as she hustled about. Meanwhile, Sergeant Wagons walked up with my tools and a rifle.

  I took the rifle and laid it over my knees.

  “First thing, unscrew the side plate,” I showed him. “Now, see that carrier spring inside here?”

  He nodded.

  “Loosen up this little screw here, and the spring pulls out real easy,” I said, and I screwed the side plate back on. “This rifle is now useless.”